


Coming Out of My Cage

by kesdax



Category: Person of Interest (TV), The L Word
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-19
Updated: 2015-01-22
Packaged: 2018-03-08 07:06:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3200063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kesdax/pseuds/kesdax
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It started out with a kiss.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Shadowkira](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowkira/gifts).



“New number,” Reese informed them both as soon as they walked into the subway station.

“And you need me here because…” said Root, smirking when Reese scowled at her. “Having trouble juggling your new day job?” she mocked, wondering how many kneecaps Detective Riley had shot at this week.

“ _Because_ , Ms. Groves,” said Harold, appearing from the depths of the subway car with a photograph in one hand, “our number just caught a flight to LA. And what with our tremulous cover identities, you and Ms. Shaw are more apt to travel across the country without arousing Samaritan’s - or your bosses - suspicions.”

“Are you kidding me?” said Shaw incredulously. “My asshat of a supervisor isn’t going to give me time off.”

Harold smiled and stuck the photograph, presumably of their number, onto one of the windows of the old subway car. “Everything has already been arranged, Ms. Shaw. Your flight leaves in one hour.”

“Please tell me we’re not flying coach,” Shaw complained.

“Well,” said Harold, coughing slightly. “ _You_ are. Ms. Groves here will be flight attending.”

“Oooh,” said Root, raising her eyebrows suggestively. “Kinky.” Harold shot her confused look before turning back to his computer, whilst John shot her a disgusted one, looking like this was the last place in the world he would like to be.

Shaw just ignored her. “So who’s our number?”

“Carmen de la Pica Morales," said Harold. “Single, no children. Lives in LA. An aspiring DJ by the looks of things. She was here in New York for a competition. Came in third place.”

“She kind of looks like you, Shaw,” said Root, stepping closer. She could feel Shaw tensing and could see the affronted look on her face through the reflection in the window.

“No she does _not_ ,” Shaw said through clenched teeth.

“I dunno, Shaw,” said Reese absently. “Take off some of the make-up; let the hair down… she could be your twin.”

“She looks nothing like me,” Shaw snapped.

“Nevertheless,” said Harold, glancing between them all warily. “You’re going to miss your flight. You can argue about this later.”

~#~

Argue about it they did.

All the way to the airport until Root made a hasty retreat to change into her new air hostess uniform, leaving Shaw seething in the departure lounge.

Root made for a terrible air hostess, but she did manage to sneak Shaw some free booze, so she wasn’t complaining. By the time their plane landed in LA, Shaw had a nice buzz going.

“Carmen’s DJing at a club in West Hollywood tonight,” Root informed her.

“Carmen?” said Shaw. “You’re on a first name basis with the numbers now?”

Root shrugged. “Harold said he couldn’t find anything in her financial records or social networking activity to indicate a threat and Reese found no leads in New York. Whatever the threat is, it didn’t come from back East.”

“Great,” Shaw muttered. She never liked being in the dark with very little intel and especially not when she was in an unfamiliar city. She had done some jobs before in LA, back when she worked for the ISA and she had always hated the place. It was far too hot and far too sunny in her opinion.

Root seemed to enjoy the heat, however, stripping out of her leather jacket and pulling a pair of sunglasses out of nowhere as they strolled out of the airport.

“I’ve booked you both rooms at a motel near where our number is working tonight,” Harold said through the earpiece. “You have some time before the club opens, perhaps you could check out where she lives.”

“On it,” said Shaw. “Where are you going?” she added, when Root made a beeline for another cab.

“Why, Sameen,” she said, grinning like an idiot. “To get us something to wear tonight.”

~#~

“I’m not wearing that,” Shaw protested adamantly. Root pouted and Shaw felt like punching it off her face. The _extremely_ short black skirt and gold glittery vest combo was so not her style. “No. Way.”

“Come on,” said Root reasonably. “We need to blend in. This is a classy place.” She smirked and Shaw glared at her.

“How is _that_ classy?” Shaw asked, gesturing at her new outfit with disgust and receiving only a shrug in response. “Well, what are _you_ wearing then?”

Root smirked. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”

Shaw did _not_ like that answer.

~#~

For some reason, Root had insisted on making their way to the club separately. Shaw wasn’t all that bothered. Not if it meant some peace and quiet for an hour or so.

The club was almost empty when she arrived and the bouncer waved her right in, muttering something about her usually going in through the back. She received a few curious looks when she checked in her coat and it wasn’t until the barman said “Hey, Carmen” to her that she realised that they had all mistaken her for the number. Shaw glared at the barman as she took a seat on one of the stools and he did an almost comical double take.

“Sorry,” he said. “You just look like… wow.”

“Yeah, whatever,” said Shaw. “Just give me a beer.”

He complied, telling her it was on the house. Shaw shrugged, never one to pass up a free drink and sat sipping it as she scanned the club, looking for Root and their number. There was no sign of either for over an hour and Shaw was getting bored. Her second beer wasn’t free. Although she’d had plenty of offers on the contrary. It hadn’t taken Shaw long to realise what kind of club this was after that and she found herself cursing Root’s name under her breath because _of course_ she would find it amusing not to tell Shaw beforehand. But at least it meant she didn’t have to deal with sleazy dudes getting in her way all night as she was trying to work.

The tempo of the music changed suddenly and Shaw glanced over to the DJ booth, spotting their number. From this distance… okay maybe she and the number did look a little alike, but Shaw was pretty sure she had never swayed her hips like _that_ before and she never _ever_ intended to.

“I’ve got eyes on our number, Root,” Shaw said. “Where are you?”

“Right where I’m supposed to be,” said Root vaguely. Shaw rolled her eyes and downed the rest of her beer.

“You know,” said Shaw, wandering away from the bar and still keeping her eyes on the DJ booth, “this mysterious cryptic thing you’ve got going on… getting kind of old.”

“Uh-huh,” said Root absently.

“Seriously, where are you?” said Shaw, glancing around. She couldn’t see any signs of curly brown hair or a smug smile anywhere and turned her attention back to the number. Now she wasn’t alone. Shaw frowned, watching as Morales swayed her entire body to the rhythm of the music. Behind her, a woman in a tight red dress held tightly onto her hips, moving in time with her. Shaw stared, her mouth going dry at the sight and she couldn’t be sure if it was the way the women were moving together, so in time with each other like they were meant to be like one being rather than two, or if it was because Morales looked a little bit like her and the other woman… looked like Root.

No. The other woman _was_ Root.

“What the hell are you doing?” Shaw seethed through clenched teeth.

“Dancing,” said Root breathlessly, glancing up and meeting Shaw’s eyes through the crowd. Shaw felt the urge to look away. Instead, she glared at Root defiantly.

“You’re supposed to be… not doing… _Root_ ,” she finally snapped.

“Jealous?”

“Absolutely not,” Shaw bristled, finally turning away so she didn’t have to look at Root and her doppelganger in such a compromising position. “We’re on the job, Root,” Shaw admonished. “This is _not_ how we work numbers. I don’t know - or care - what the Machine has you doing, but this is not-”

“Not what?” Root asked. She sounded breathless again, her voice hitching slightly. Despite herself, Shaw glanced over her shoulder and clenched her jaw when she saw Morales, now facing Root, grinding herself up against her. Shaw couldn’t tell if it was embarrassing or arousing and she decided quickly that it was best not to find out, darting for the nearest exit.

Outside, the air was cool and a nice welcome to the oppressive heat of all the bodies from inside the club. Shaw took a deep breath, glad for the respite to get her brain working again. She was on the job. There was a number to save. A number who looked just like her. A number who was currently falling through the fire exit door, lips locked with Shaw’s sort of girlfriend slash maybe arch-nemesis who she had on more than one occasion had homo-erotic fantasies about.

“Uh,” said Shaw.

Definitely embarrassment.

And something else she would really rather not think about.

“Oh, sorry,” said Carmen, breaking the kiss. “I didn’t think anyone else would be out here. Oh, hey,” she said, pointing at Shaw with a dumbfounded look when she finally got a good look at her.

But Shaw only had eyes for Root.


	2. Chapter 2

Unable to do anything else, Shaw stared dumbfounded at Root. Although Root and the number were standing several inches apart, all Shaw could see in front of her eyes was them kissing. Root for her part, looked a little sheepish. However, Shaw couldn’t be sure if the redness to her cheeks was from arousal or embarrassment or both.

“What the hell?” Shaw hissed, glaring at Root.

“Oh, are you two…” said Morales, waving between them with widened eyes.

“No,” said Shaw at the same times as Root said, “yes.”

“Yes?” asked Shaw, raising her eyebrow dubiously.

“No?” asked Root, looking at little crestfallen.

“ _No_ ,” said Shaw firmly.

“Oh,” said Root.

“Uh, okay,” said Morales, looking more than mildly uncomfortable. It was an odd look to see on her mirrored reflection and Shaw looked away, not liking it at all. “I don’t really want to get in the middle of whatever this is, so I’m just gonna go.”

“Carmen, wait,” said Root, grabbing onto her forearm before she could go any further. To Shaw, she said, “We need to stick close to her.”

“With your _tongue_?” said Shaw incredulously.

Root rolled her eyes. “We still don’t know what the threat is,” she said reasonably.

Shaw sighed. Technically, they still had a job to do, no matter what their number looked like or where Root chose to put her tongue. “Fine,” she said tightly.

“What are you guys talking about?” said Carmen, glancing between them both in confusion.

“Nothing,” said Root hurriedly. “How about we go for that quiet drink. You don’t mind if my friend comes, do you?”

~#~

A high pitched girly laughter sounded from somewhere in the living room. Shaw glowered as she continued to rummage through the kitchen drawers looking for the bottle opener. She finally found it in the sink with a pile of dirty dishes and quickly used it to open the bottle of beer she had pilfered from Carmen de la Pica Morales’ fridge. No chance in hell was she going to sit through the rest of this evening sober.

“Oh, I love this song,” Carmen exclaimed as light jazz music started to play through the speakers. It quickly built up in tempo until it was something racy and fast and obnoxiously loud. “The basslines in this are just…”

Shaw tuned out the rest of her gushing and threw herself onto the couch, scowling as she chugged from her beer bottle and rolling her eyes at Root’s sound of encouragement. Like she knew _anything_ about music, Shaw thought bitterly.

“So you don’t have any family in LA?” Carmen asked for the tenth time. “I’ve got cousins over in Phoenix. Maybe we’re related through them.”

“We’re _not_ related,” Shaw snapped, shuddering at the thought.

“Actually,” said Finch, through her earpiece. “It wouldn’t be all that difficult a matter of finding out. All I need to do is –”

Shaw cut the connection before he could finish that sentence. She didn’t want to know what Finch knew about her family. Or lack thereof.

“I can’t believe you’ve never heard these guys before,” Carmen was saying, looking through her large collection of CDs and randomly handing one to Root every now and then. Root shrugged, looking at the case covers with an interest that was on par with the look she would sport whenever she was hacking into a particularly well protected security system. Shaw didn’t buy it for a second.

“Aren’t we supposed to be finding out information on why someone might want to kill her?” Shaw muttered, knowing Root would hear her through the earpiece. “Not discussing the top twenty billboard tracks of the last century.”

Root shot her an admonishing look, which Shaw chose to ignore. This was taking _far_ too long. Usually Reese dealt with this shit. The boring, interacting with the number stuff. Shaw just liked to shoot things. _That_ was easier to handle. Simple.

And most definitely _not_ something out of the Twilight Zone, she thought ruefully, catching the lazy smile on Carmen’s face, the easy sway of her hips. It was uncanny - well, _unnerving_ \- how much they looked alike. But at least that was all they had in common. Personality wise… well, let’s just say, Shaw never thought she would meet someone more annoying than Root.

Shaw downed the last of her beer, dumping the empty bottle onto the coffee table loudly. The other two didn’t notice. In fact, Shaw wouldn’t be surprised if they had both forgotten she was there. They were _dancing._ Again.

Shaw scowled and disappeared into the kitchen in search of another beer - or something stronger if she could find it. When she came back, the living room was empty.

~#~

Despite the aircon being on full blast, Root’s entire body was radiating heat. It was almost uncomfortable and she knew her cheeks were probably flaring neon pink by now. But Carmen didn’t seem to notice, or maybe she was just seeing it as encouragement, taking Root by the hand and pulling her closer so that they could sway in time to the music. It was a much slower song than the one in the club, not something Root had heard before but she found she didn’t mind it all that much. Carmen had a wide and varied taste in music and seemed to know a great deal about every song she played.

It was almost like having the Machine in her ear.

Except the Machine didn’t look like Shaw.

Carmen was everything Shaw wasn’t; fun, playful... Not afraid to show her attraction to Root as she leaned in closer, bringing her lips up to Root’s ear. Even the look she flashed Root’s way was something Root would never have imagined passing across Sameen Shaw’s face.

But this wasn’t Shaw and Root was finding it more and more difficult to remember that.

“Do you want to go upstairs?” Carmen whispered.

Root swallowed thickly and nodded, letting Carmen pull her by the hand towards the stairs. She wasn’t sure what she was doing and it was only in after thought that she glanced behind her in search for Shaw, feeling disappointed when she was nowhere to be found.

Carmen led her to a bedroom, pulling Root inside and kicking the door shut with her foot. Then her hands were around Root’s neck, bringing her head down and crashing their lips together. Feeling dazed, Root moaned, hardly aware of Carmen leading them towards the bed until they were both falling onto it, Root somehow ending up on top. This wasn’t exactly how she had imagined _this_ particular scenario going down. Then again… that’s because it was Shaw she was usually imagining pressing her down roughly onto a bed or up against a wall, not this Shaw look alike writhing beneath her.

“What’s wrong?” Carmen asked.

“Nothing,” said Root and kissed her again, annoyed when Carmen pulled away out of her reach.

“I don’t think it’s me you want to be kissing,” said Carmen, her voice going slightly hard. It sounded so like Shaw that Root froze. “Fuck,” said Carmen, shaking her head as she pushed Root away from her so she could sit up. “Do you have any idea how fucked up this is?”

“Yes,” said Root, biting her lip. She was _very_ aware. She was also aware of the fact that Shaw was still downstairs. That thought alone sent a pulsating rush of arousal through her that must have shone on her face.

Carmen narrowed her eyes. “We’re not doing this.”

“No,” said Root. Part of her wanted to though, just to see what Shaw would do.

“There are easier ways to make someone jealous,” said Carmen.

“That’s not-” Root began, realising that was exactly what she was doing. Ever since she had first seen Carmen at the club, she had been curious about Shaw’s reaction. But she also wanted to know what it would feel like, with a Shaw who was so willing, so forward and so encouraging. Except all it did was leave her feeling empty inside.

“I went out with someone like her once,” said Carmen absently, shifting so she could sit on the bed with her back resting against the headboard.

“I doubt it,” said Root, suddenly feeling angry. There was no one like Shaw. Not even this person sitting in front of her, practically a mirror image. Carmen was nothing like Shaw.

“Distant,” said Carmen, raising an eyebrow at Root’s sudden hostility. “Closed off, likes to pretend feelings are beneath her… ring any bells?”

“No,” Root lied sullenly.

Carmen rolled her eyes. Then she started bouncing up and down off the bed, hard enough so that the headboard started hitting off the wall.

“What are you doing?” Root asked.

“Making it look good,” said Carmen. “You want to make her jealous, right? Moan loudly or something. You seem like a screamer.”

Root gaped at her.

~#~

It didn’t take a genius to work out what was going on upstairs. The rhythmic thumps vibrating through the ceiling were transparent enough. As were the occasional moans and cries of “Oh God, yes!” that left Shaw cringing.

Apparently Carmen de la Pica Morales was very vocal when it came to… Actually, Shaw decided she didn’t want to think about it. Or listen to it and she quickly abandoned her drink and made a hasty retreat.

Once outside, Shaw felt like she could breathe again. For once she was grateful for the silence of the LA suburbs. That was the thing about New York; it wasn’t quiet, no matter where you were in the city, but out here… well, it really was a desert at times.

“Sameen, wait.”

Shaw clenched her teeth and kept walking. “Finished already?” she said scathingly. “You really put a new outlook on the term quickie.”

“That’s not… it’s not what you think,” said Root, rushing around Shaw, her longer legs allowing her to take the lead and stop right in front of her.

Laughing humourlessly, Shaw pushed past her. “You don’t know what I think.”

“Well then tell me,” said Root. Something about her tone made Shaw pause and she whipped around, angrily stepping closer to Root.

“It’s weird, is what I think,” she snapped. “You and her. She-”

“She what?” said Root smirking. The playfulness was back and any seriousness that might have been there a few moments ago was gone.

“I’m not having this conversation,” said Shaw. “ _We’re_ not having this conversation. We have a job to do. A number to save.”

“Why are you always all work and no play, Sameen?” Root asked. “You need to learn to have some fun.”

“I’m not here to have fun,” Shaw snapped. “I’m here to-”

But whatever Shaw was about to say was cut off by the sound of a gunshot ringing loudly in the night air and a shrill scream that sounded eerily like her own voice.

“Carmen,” said Root and Shaw tried not to think about how worried she sounded as she rushed back into the house, pulling her USP out of her ridiculously small purse as she went. She tossed the purse aside, clearing the downstairs with Root close behind her.

“Are you armed?” Shaw asked quietly.

“No,” said Root.

“Then stay behind me,” Shaw ordered. She didn’t want to have to worry about Root getting shot too.

The living room was clear, no sign of Carmen or any intruders. “Kitchen,” Root suggested.

Shaw jumped, not expecting her to be so close, Root’s voice oddly loud in her ear. She turned and glared. “What are you my shadow now?”

Root smirked at her slyly and took a step back. Shaw waited until she was sure Root wasn’t about to do something stupid like jump out in front of a bullet before moving towards the kitchen.

The kitchen was empty too, but on the floor, rolling as Shaw hit it with her shoe, was a beer bottle, the alcohol fizzing everywhere as it spilled out of the open end. Shaw watched it with steady eyes as the bottle ended its roll in a small pool of blood, bright and stark against the dull cream linoleum.

There was no sign of Carmen anywhere.


	3. Chapter 3

“Finch, we lost the number,” said Shaw, tapping on her earpiece.

“ _What_?” said Finch. “How?”

“She was shot,” Shaw explained, kneeling down to get a closer look at the blood pooling on the kitchen floor. There wasn’t that much. No more than a litre, she calculated. “I don’t think it was bad. Maybe just a flesh wound.”

“Maybe?” said Finch, not sounding convinced. “I thought you were watching her closely. What happened?”

Shaw glanced at Root and awkwardly cleared her throat. She didn’t think it would be a good idea to tell Finch that they were too busy arguing with each other to pay any proper attention to the number.

“We’ll find her,” Shaw reassured him. “But some of the neighbours might have heard the gunshot. The cops are probably on their way.”

“I’ve sent someone who might be able to help with that,” said Finch.

“I thought it wasn’t safe for your covers if Reese came out here,” said Shaw, knowing full well just how bad Reese was at maintaining his cover at the best of times. The last thing she needed or wanted was him shooting at kneecaps.

“It’s not Mr. Reese I’m sending you,” said Finch. “Detective Fusco should be there momentarily.”

~#~

“Hello, Lionel,” said Root brightly, grinning as he got out of the cab.

Fusco scowled, heaving a large duffel bag out of the backseat. “Glasses didn’t say anything about _you_ being here,” he complained.

“Isn’t life just _full_ of surprises?” said Root. Fusco ignored her and stomped into the house.

“The Boy Wonder said you might be wanting these,” said Fusco, dumping the duffel bag at Shaw’s feet. “What the hell are you wearing?” he added, doing a double as he eyed Shaw and her scantily-clad attire up and down.

Shaw ignored him and rummaged through the bag. Root could hear the clatter of metal on metal and peered over Shaw’s shoulder to get a good look. “Oooh,” she said, eyeing up the large collection of guns. She thought she spotted a grenade in there too. “Are we having a party later?”

“You know some of that stuff isn’t exactly legal, right?” said Fusco.

“Yeah yeah,” said Shaw casually, waving it off. “Help us have a look around. See if we can find something that will give us a clue as to who took our girl.”

Root headed straight for Carmen’s computer and phone, allowing the other two to begin looking through cupboards and drawers and wherever else might be a likely hiding place for something important. The laptop was about two years old and apart from the odd news site, Carmen’s internet usage was mostly social networking and downloading music. A lot of it. Root scanned through the emails, but turned up nothing, the last few nothing more than a few congratulatory messages about her DJing competition.

“Is this her?” said Fusco, looking at one of the photographs hanging on the wall. It was taken here in LA, on one of the beaches, but Root didn’t know which one. In the photograph, Carmen was smiling brightly with her arms wrapped tightly around another woman.

“Yeah,” said Root, doing a quick search of Carmen’s Facebook and identifying the woman as Carmen’s roommate, currently on vacation in Barbados with her boyfriend.

“She’s hot,” said Fusco. “What?” he added when both Root and Shaw stared at him.

“You did _not_ just say that,” said Shaw in disgust, glowering as Lionel’s face rumpled face in confusion.

Root grinned and moved over beside Lionel to get a better look at the photograph. “Don’t you think she looks a bit like Shaw?” she asked, making sure to flash Shaw her brightest smile over her shoulder. Shaw scowled.

“Are you kidding me?” said Fusco, glancing between the photograph and Shaw. “They look nothing alike. She’s all,” he gestured to Carmen’s picture and waved his hands vaguely. “And Shaw’s all…” he trailed off, realising suddenly that it was probably best _not_ to finish that line of thought.

Shaw stared coldly at him for a moment before turning to Root. “See?” she said smugly. “Nothing alike.”

Her absolute denial was kind of cute, Root thought, but decided it was best not to share that piece of information just yet. She didn’t want Shaw testing out one of those grenades on her. Well… maybe not right _now_. They had work to do, after all.

There was always later.

“I suppose if you squint…” said Lionel, scrunching his face up and tilting his head to the side. “You look kinda alike.”

“Okay... just-” Shaw began. Root was pretty sure she was growling under her breath. “Stop. Talking.”

Fusco held his hands up defensively and went back to searching through Carmen’s belongings. Shaw continued to glower and it only deepened when she turned to find Root grinning at her. “What?” she ground out through clenched teeth.

Root shrugged. “Who knew Lionel had a thing for you. I always imagined him being into the tall, blonde type,” she said reflectively, smirking at the horrified look that crossed Shaw’s face.

“He does _not_ have a thing for me,” Shaw declared loudly, ignoring Lionel when he glanced over to them. “You’ve all lost your goddamn minds.”

Root listened with mild amusement as Shaw began rambling on about known hallucinogens and possible gas leaks in the subway station.

“Fusco doesn’t even know where the subway is, sweetie,” said Root reasonably, uncaring of the glare Shaw shot her.

One thing she _was_ certain about… that pool of blood was _not_ a hallucination. Carmen was in very _real_ danger. Under normal circumstances, Root knew she wouldn’t be feeling the worry, the immediacy, over losing a number. But Carmen looked like Shaw and that made the danger she was in seem all the more real to Root.

“I think I may have found something,” said Harold through the open comm. line. “Mr Reese - or, rather, Detective Riley - did some digging. He spoke with some of the other competitors from the competition Ms. Morales participated in.”

“And?” said Shaw impatiently.

“From what he could gather,” said Harold, undeterred, “the person who came in fourth place - the person who Ms. Morales beat - was not very happy about it.”

“Define not happy,” said Root.

Fusco made a sickening creaking noise with his tongue and ran a finer across his neck like a knife. Root and Shaw glared at him until he shrugged and turned away.

“According to DJ Freestlylez,” Reese chimed in with derision, “Carmen wasn’t very eloquent about winning.”

“You mean she gloated?” said Shaw.

“I mean she cheated,” said Reese. “Well, that’s what our perp thinks, anyway. Freddie Marcus,” Reese added.

Root frowned, the name sounding familiar. She pulled Carmen’s laptop towards her, going back through her contact list. Nothing in her emails, but a quick look on her Facebook friend list and Root spotted the name of the rival DJ. She clicked on his page, shaking her head in disdain at the lack of basic privacy settings.

“They knew each other before the competition,” said Root, quickly scrolling through Carmen’s messages. “This wasn’t the first time he had lost to her,” she explained. “The club we were at tonight - that was supposed to be Marcus’ gig.”

“How did Carmen get the job?” Shaw asked.

Root shrugged. “Maybe she’s just better.” Shaw looked unconvinced. Root didn’t find it surprising.

“Hm,” said Harold. “It seems Mr Marcus has some ties with a local gang. The Aryan Brotherhood.”

“Explains where he got the gun then,” said Shaw. The tone of her voice suggested this was anything but good news. An inexplicable flash of worry crept its way into Root and she couldn’t stop the rush of guilt she felt. This was all her fault. All because she had stupidly wanted to make Shaw jealous. She had lost focus of the mission. If anything happened to Carmen, it was all on Root.

“I’ll call my contact at the LAPD,” said Fusco, pulling out his cell phone. “See if he knows where the Brotherhood likes to hang out.”

“We’ll check out Marcus’ place,” said Shaw, moving over to the duffel bag and pulling out several guns. She handed two to Root and took a second one for herself, frowning when she couldn’t figure out where to put it.

“I can’t believe you made me wear this stupid outfit,” she complained.

“I can’t believe you actually wore that stupid outfit,” said Root, smirking. “Why don’t you borrow some of Carmen’s clothes?” she suggested. “You’re the same size.”

“No.”

“Fine,” said Root, shrugging like she didn’t care either way. “Keep your impractical, but very sexy outfit on. I don’t care,” she added, smirking when Shaw grumbled under her breath and promptly disappeared up the stairs to get changed.

~#~

“That girl doesn’t own a scrap of black,” Shaw complained. With her head currently lodged under the steering wheel, her voice came out slightly muffled. They’d had to resort to hotwiring Carmen’s car when they couldn’t find the keys. Shaw refused to get another cab.

Root grinned. Even in the dark, the bright orange corduroy pants and stark white hoodie with “I <3 pussy” in neon green on the front were ridiculously obnoxious. When Shaw had first come back down the stairs, Root couldn’t help the laugh that had escaped her mouth. Fusco hadn’t dared to say a word.

“You’re lucky we have a number to save,” Shaw had threatened, “or you and my combat knife would be getting very well acquainted.”

“Promises promises,” said Root, following  Shaw out to the garage. Fusco looked like he wanted to throw up as they had passed.

“Shouldn’t we split up?” said Fusco. He was crammed into the backseat of Carmen’s Mini, his face going red as he sucked his gut so he could fit.

“I’m going with Shaw,” Root announced quickly. “What?” she said innocently when Shaw glared in annoyance and Lionel rolled his eyes as if he had expected nothing less. “Well I’m not going with _Lionel_ ,” she said reasonably.

“Hey,” Fusco protested. “I don’t exactly want to go with you either, Princess Nutso.”

Root opened her mouth, ready with her wittiest retort yet, but quickly closed it again at Shaw’s glare. This wasn’t her “I’m annoyed but secretly like it” glare. This was her “I’m about to shoot you and not in a fun way” glare.

“Nobody is splitting up. It took _you_ ,” she said scathingly to Lionel, “five minutes to get in this damn thing and I _just_ got it started. We’re not going anywhere.”

“Fine,”  Lionel muttered sullenly.

“Whatever,” said Root, but it wasn’t with her usual enthusiasm.

“Ms. Shaw?” said Harold hesitantly.

“What?” Shaw snapped.

“You _are_ still going to Freddie Marcus’ apartment, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Shaw sighed tiredly, guiding the Mini out of the driveway. “We are.”

~#~

They didn’t bother to wait or help Lionel out of the car. Shaw was rushing inside Freddie Marcus’ apartment building, Root hot on her heels. Root didn’t think she was worried, more just pissed off that she had lost Carmen in the first place. Shaw didn’t like to lose.

Outside the apartment, Shaw pressed her ear up against the door. “I can hear something.”

“Is it Carmen?” Root asked.

Shaw shrugged. Then she frowned, clearly not liking what she heard next. “Stand back,” she said. Root did as she was told, watching as Shaw kicked the door open in one swift manoeuvre.

“Okay, that was hot,” said Root.

“Not now,” Shaw grumbled, heading inside the apartment with her gun raised. Root followed her, only with two guns out and feeling disappointed when she didn’t receive a similar appraisal from Shaw.

In the middle of the apartment, Carmen was sitting tied to a kitchen chair. Apart from the gunshot wound on her arm, which had mostly stopped bleeding by now, she seemed relatively unharmed. Behind her stood Freddie Marcus with his gun raised and trembling in his hand.

“Are you okay?” Root asked.

Carmen looked a little surprised to see them for a moment before she nodded her head. “This moron can’t even shoot straight,” she said loudly over her shoulder.

“Perhaps it’s best you _don’t_ antagonise the guy pointing a gun at your head,” Root suggested.

“I don’t know, Root,” said Shaw. “I think I’m finally starting to like her.”

“Are those my clothes?” Carmen asked.

“Well they’re _not_ mine,” Shaw said, ignoring Root’s snort of amusement.

“That’s my favourite hoodie,” said Carmen. “Don’t get any blood on it.”

“Who the hell are you people?” Freddie Marcus yelled, staring between them both in a mixture of fear and confusion.

“Hey, loser,” said Fusco, appearing drenched in sweat from his climb through the back window. “We’re the good guys.”

Freddie Marcus turned, startled, only to be hit in the face with the butt of Lionel’s gun. He landed on the floor with a thump.

“Hey loser, we’re the good guys?” said Shaw disdainfully.

“What?” said Lionel. “I’m not allowed to say cool one-liners now?”

“In what universe was that cool?” said Shaw, shaking her head and tucking her gun away. “Just help me tie him up.”

With the two of them busy with that, Root helped untie Carmen. “Are you sure you’re okay?” Root asked.

Carmen nodded. “You aren’t really an IT specialist on vacation from New York, are you?” she asked, recalling the cover story Root had spun her when they had first met in the club.

“Not exactly,” said Root. “It’s complicated.”

“Why am I not surprised?” said Carmen lightly.

Root smiled. For just a second there, her deadpan sarcasm sounded exactly like Shaw.


	4. Chapter 4

“Why are we here?”

“Carmen wanted to thank us,” said Root.

“I can think of better ways,” said Shaw, glaring around the club as if the building itself was at fault for her current predicament.

“You guys made it!”

Shaw cringed, a scowl on her face as Carmen wrapped one arm around each of their shoulders, careful not to bump her still healing bandaged one.

“Unfortunately,” Shaw muttered after Carmen had let them go and squeezed her way towards the bar.

Root elbowed her in the ribs. “Be nice.”

Shaw growled under her breath, straightening up her dress. It wasn’t one of Carmen’s this time, or something Root had picked out, but she still didn’t look happy about it. “Fine,” she sighed, moving to stand next to Carmen at the bar.

“Hey, Nicky,” Carmen called to the barman. “These are my friends Root and Shaw.” She put her arms around them again and, this time, Shaw was much better at hiding her disgust. “You make sure they have a good time, okay,” Carmen continued. “Anything they want. Even that special shit I know you’re hoarding in the back.”

The barman nodded, laying a round of drinks in front of them. Two beers and what was presumably a fruity cocktail. Shaw hurriedly snatched up one of the beers, as if worried she would be left stuck with the fruity drink.

Carmen picked up the other two, rolling her eyes as she handed the cocktail to Root.

“Okay, you guys have to stay for the whole set,” said Carmen. “This mix is for you guys.”

“For us?” said Root, feeling both surprised and oddly touched.

“Great,” said Shaw sullenly.

Carmen looked at her. There was no disappointment on her face, however. Instead, she just laughed, clapping Shaw on the shoulder with more familiarity than Shaw had with anyone ever. Shaw glared.

“Don’t you ever crack a smile?” Carmen asked, rolling her eyes. To Root, she said, “You sure picked a winner.”

“Well… at least she’s hot,” Root said, as Carmen headed towards the DJ booth.

“She is that,” said Carmen, waggling her eyebrows and grinning with her tongue between her teeth.

Root turned back to find Shaw glowering into her beer bottle. “Well at least Lionel is having fun,” she muttered, watching with raised eyebrows as a crowd of women, gaining rapidly in numbers, surged around him as he danced.

“You think he knows they’re only into women?” Shaw asked.

Root shrugged. “Should we tell him?”

“No,” said Shaw.

“Why, Sameen,” said Root, grinning brightly. “I’m liking this new wicked side of you.”

Shaw scowled. “Asshat took a picture of me in that hoodie. The hell if I’m helping him out.”

Root snorted, attempting to hide it behind her glass, but Shaw stared at her coldly, comprehension dawning on her face.

“He already sent you a copy, didn’t he?” Shaw said tightly through clenched teeth.

“Maybe,” said Root playfully. “I think it’s a good look on you.”

Shaw grabbed her violently by the front of her dress, pulling her down so their faces were mere inches apart. “Delete it. _Now._ ”

This close, it was easy for Root to inhale Shaw’s scent. It was nice and warm and familiar, with just a hint of gunpowder. Root thought she would never get tired of it.

“What’s in it for me?” Root asked.

Shaw narrowed her eyes, letting go of Root abruptly like she had just realised how close they were. “What do you want?”

“Hm,” said Root contemplatively. “What. Do. I _Want_ …”

“Root,” Shaw warned.

“Sameen.” Root smiled.

Sighing heavily, Shaw shook her head. “Whatever,” she muttered, swallowing down more of her beer.

“Oh, come on,” said Root, ducking her head down lower. “Don’t be like that.”

“Like what?” Shaw snapped. “Would you rather I was like _her_?”

Root stiffened slightly and could feel her cheeks turning pink as she remembered what she had almost done - what she had _wanted_ to do - with Carmen the other night. “No, actually,” she said, her voice like ice. She could feel herself warming up when Shaw looked at her sharply, surprise in her eyes. “Carmen’s… kind of exhausting,” Root admitted.

Shaw raised an eyebrow. “Now you know how I feel,” she muttered.

“Hardly,” said Root, frowning as Shaw disappeared back to the bar to get another drink.

Root watched her go. Shaw was rigid and stiff, whereas Carmen was loose and easy going. But, Root found, she wouldn’t have Shaw any other way. It had taken meeting Carmen for her to fully realise that.

Swallowing down the rest of her drink, Root followed Shaw to the bar.

“A dance,” said Root, raising her voice to be heard over the swell of upbeat music that had started playing now that Carmen was spinning.

“What?” said Shaw, scowling over her shoulder.

“A dance,” Root repeated. “It’s what I want for deleting the picture.”

Shaw looked at her carefully. “Is that a euphemism for something?”

“No,” said Root, rolling her eyes. “Just a dance.”

“Just the one?” said Shaw, narrowing her eyes. “And then you’ll delete the picture?”

“And then I’ll delete the picture,” Root agreed. “Even the original.”

For a moment, Shaw continued to frown at her dubiously, making Root think that she was going to be ditched right here and now, spending the evening with Carmen after all.

Eventually, Shaw shook her head and took Root by the hand. “Fine,” she said, leading her to the dance floor. “But just _one._ ”

Root couldn’t argue for the possibility of more, she was too busy grinning from ear to ear.

In the middle of the dance floor, Shaw quickly let go of Root’s hand and began to sway her hips in time to the upbeat music. Root stood frozen, mesmerised by the sight and it wasn’t until she heard laughing coming from the DJ booth that she looked away. She caught Carmen’s gaze, affronted that she had the audacity to laugh at her. But Carmen just winked and changed the song, something slow and sensual. Root swallowed, realising what Carmen was doing and feeling oddly grateful.

“Well, song’s over,” said Shaw, attempting to make a quick exit. Root grabbed onto her wrist, feeling confident that Shaw wasn’t going to break her hand in the middle of a crowded room.

Well… _almost_ confident.

“We’ve not had our dance yet,” said Root in response to Shaw’s questioning glare.

“I… This is not-” Shaw began, but Root was already pulling her closer. “It’s not supposed to be this song,” Shaw complained. If Root didn’t know any better, she would have thought Sameen Shaw looked a little flustered.

“Oh come on,” said Root, putting her arms around Shaw’s waist. “I’ll let you lead.”

Shaw sighed and said nothing. Root didn’t really care that she glowered through the whole thing, she was too busy marvelling over the fact that she was dancing, up close and personal, with _Sameen Shaw_ , and found she couldn’t take her eyes from Shaw’s face. When the song finally ended - far too soon in Root’s opinion - and Carmen started playing something faster, Shaw let go of her quickly and took a step back.

“I have to… uh-” she said, then quickly turned on her heel and disappeared through the crowd.

Root stared after her, uncaring of the crowd jostling around her. She looked up, unsure what to do and her eyes locked with Carmen’s.

_Go after her_ , Carmen mouthed and gestured in the direction Shaw had run off in.

Hesitating for the briefest of moments, Root pushed her way through the throng of dancers. There was no sign of Shaw, but she found Lionel near the bar, sweating as he downed a glass of water. He waved to her awkwardly.

“You know,” he said, placing the empty glass on the bar, “I’m starting to think I should do these things with you two more often. Glasses and Wonder Boy never thank me afterwards.”

“You know this is a gay club, right?” said Root absently, eyes scanning the crowd but not seeing Shaw anywhere.

“I know,” said Lionel, sounding relieved. Root looked at him in confusion. “Do you have any idea how exhausting it is to have women hitting on me all the time?”

Root stared at him blankly.

“It’s the badge,” he explained.

“Right,” said Root, shaking her head. “Have you seen Shaw?”

“Yeah, she went out to get some air,” said Lionel. “She didn’t look good. Although don’t tell her I said that,” he added hurriedly.

“Can I borrow your phone?” Root asked, not bothering to answer when he asked why, just taking it from him and heading outside.

She found Shaw in the alley behind the club, leaning against the wall and staring into space. Although Root’s heels had been clicking on the ground loud enough to be heard, Shaw didn’t acknowledge her.

“I’m deleting it,” said Root, taking Lionel’s phone and doing just that. She waved the evidence under Shaw's nose, but still got no reaction. “That’s what you wanted, right?”

“Did you fuck her?” Shaw asked unexpectedly.

“No,” said Root, letting her arm drop to the side and wondering how long Shaw had been waiting to ask her that.

“Did you want to?” Shaw asked.

“Yes,” said Root, not seeing the point in trying to hide it.

“Why didn’t you?” Shaw asked. Although she looked like she didn’t want to hear the answer.

Root shrugged, unsure what to say that wouldn’t have Shaw running far away in the opposite direction. “She wasn’t you,” she said honestly.

Shaw stared at her hard and, for once, Root didn’t know what to make of the look on her face.

“Right,” said Shaw and went back to staring at nothing. Root might as well not have been there at all.

“Okay,” said Root awkwardly. “I’m going back inside.”

Shaw continued her gloomy silence and Root turned on her heel. She had to force herself not to run out of that alley. A swell of emotions filled her chest and Root bit her lip, refusing to be affected by something so _stupid_.

Except it wasn’t stupid. This was _Shaw_.

Out of nowhere, a hand grabbed onto her wrist, pulling her backwards into the shadows. Root was so startled she didn’t notice Shaw’s lips on hers until she was pulling away.

“You deleted your copy too, right?” Shaw asked, pushing Root up against the wall.

Root laughed and didn’t think she would stop grinning for days, possibly weeks. “Yes,” she said, ducking her head to kiss her again. It was so different to Carmen’s that Root couldn’t believe she had ever thought kissing Carmen would be a good substitute. Carmen had been tender and hesitant, whereas Shaw was aggressive and forward. _Very_ forward, Root thought, jumping when she felt Shaw’s hand go up under her dress, trailing lazily up her thigh.

“Although,” Root added when Shaw pulled apart to nuzzle at her neck. “I can’t promise Lionel didn’t already send it to Reese and Finch.”

Shaw froze, a horrified look crossing her face. Root kissed her until it went away.

“I’m going to kill Fusco,” Shaw vowed.

“Later,” said Root. “Maybe tomorrow,” she added, moaning when Shaw went back to biting and sucking at her neck. “Afternoon probably,” she said. She had a feeling they were going to be _very_ busy until then.

“Evening,” Shaw corrected. “Actually,” she said, letting out a groan when Root’s hands started to wander. “It can wait until we’re back in New York.”

“Good idea,” said Root. “Have you ever done it on a plane?” she asked, hoping she was going to be keeping up her air hostess cover for the flight back. She wondered if Shaw had a thing for uniforms.

Shaw paused, staring at her in consideration. “We’ll talk about it.”

“Talk?” said Root. “Well, that’s no fun.”

“Speaking of talking,” said Shaw, pressing Root up against the wall roughly in annoyance. “Do you ever shut up?”

“Absolutely never,” said Root.

Which was why she found herself three hours later, tied to a motel room bed, naked, and with a gag in her mouth.


End file.
